Choice
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: How did Sheppard know which lifesign to choose? Duet tag
1. Zelenka

"You have to decide which one we're going to beam out."

Is this the coward's way out, I wonder? Why am I not the one to choose? Rodney is, after all, head of _science_ department. It ought to be a scientist who makes the decision about his life.

I pass computer to Colonel Sheppard anyway. It feels appropriate, somehow; I cannot explain. Maybe because he is military leader and life-and-death choice should be easy for him. _Fuj_, that is an uneducated thing to say! When is this choice easy for anyone, even military? Colonel Sheppard thinks no one notices, but Rodney told me how he keeps Colonel Sumner's identification tags. To remind him always of terrible decision he had to make, I am thinking.

Maybe I make him choose because he is _our_ military leader. He believes he is responsible for everyone on Atlantis and, as much as we dislike the situation, he is – at least for our lives. It is only fitting that he make the decision that could end one of them.

There is also matter of Colonel Sheppard's own attitude. I cannot help thinking that, even though the choice is so terrible, he would want to be the one to make it. He thinks he is responsible, so he must take responsibility. Or something to this effect.

I am thinking for Rodney, as well. I do not doubt that Rodney would prefer the colonel decide his fate rather than me. Actually, Rodney would rather decide his own fate but since this is not possible…I work with Rodney, yes, but he and the colonel know one another like _bratri_. Often they fight like brothers, also, but each has saved the other's life more than once. It would be out of place for someone else to save Rodney this time. If he is to be saved.


	2. Sheppard

"It's a terrible choice to have to make."

What, is he kidding? The choice is simple, and I tell them so. "Beam out McKay; he'll figure out how to get Cadman free."

There's always a catch, isn't there? Can't tell which is which, only read as life-signs. And, of course, I have to be the one to choose. Perfect; just freaking wonderful.

Why me, anyway? Who died and made me king? Sure, I'm the ranking military officer on Atlantis. Right. So why does that never come up when McKay needs some stupid Ancient crap to turn on, or when we're in hot water and the scientists come running to bail us out? No, then it's, "Stand aside, mindless military moron; see how science will save your _gluteus maximus_." But now, with one of their own on the line, they make me do it.

I guess it's appropriate. I mean, I ordered the dart shot down so it's pretty much my fault McKay and Cadman are stuck in there. If I pick right, maybe McKay'll be so grateful I saved his life he'll forget I almost lost it in the first place. Yeah, right. Of course, if I pick wrong...well, I'll be the last thing McKay has to worry about.

McKay should be the one here, figuring this out. He's the one that gets this stuff. Then again, maybe it's better that it's me. The choice is pretty much a random gamble; there's seriously no way to tell those dots apart. McKay's never been good with random; he needs a reason for everything. Which is good when you're an astrophysicist calculating how and why the 'gate does such-and-such. Not so good when you're trying to pick between two dots that look _exactly_ the same to get your friend beamed out of an alien spaceship.

"All right, that one," I finally point, fed up with the situation. "Go."

I hold my breath. For three of the worst seconds of my life, I hope and pray with everything I've got that I didn't pick wrong. For three god-awful, gut-wrenching seconds, I almost piss my pants worrying that even if I did pick right, Rodney'll come out of that dart inside out or missing important body parts. For three seconds of pure nightmare, I'm more scared than I've been since my first chopper solo over Iraq.

And then it's over. I picked right, Rodney came out whole, and it's over. Crisis averted. The pissy little scientist lives to see another day -- and pick it to pieces, no doubt, just to see how it works. But damned if I'm not glad he's _my_ pissy little scientist.


End file.
